Fifteen

The inquest was well attended by the general public. Thrilled by a murderin their midst, Crowdean turned out with eager hopes of sensational dis-closures. The proceedings, however, were as dry as they could be. SheilaWebb need not have dreaded her ordeal, it was over in a couple ofminutes.

There had been a telephone message to the Cavendish Bureau directingher to go to 19, Wilbraham Crescent. She had gone, acting as told to do, byentering the sitting room. She had found the dead man there and hadscreamed and rushed out of the house to summon assistance. There wereno questions or elaborations. Miss Martindale, who also gave evidence,was questioned for an even shorter time. She had received a message pur-porting to be from Miss Pebmarsh asking her to send a shorthand typist,preferably Miss Sheila Webb, to 19, Wilbraham Crescent, and giving cer-tain directions. She had noted down the exact time of the telephone call as1:49. That disposed of Miss Martindale.

Miss Pebmarsh, called next, denied categorically that she had asked forany typist to be sent to her that day from the Cavendish Bureau. DetectiveInspector Hardcastle made a short emotionless statement. On receipt of atelephone call, he had gone to 19, Wilbraham Crescent where he hadfound the body of a dead man. The coroner then asked him:

“Have you been able to identify the dead man?”

“Not as yet, sir. For that reason, I would ask for this inquest to be ad-journed.”

“Quite so.”

Then came the medical evidence. Doctor Rigg, the police surgeon, hav-ing described himself and his qualifications, told of his arrival at 19, Wil-braham Crescent, and of his examination of the dead man.

“Can you give us an approximate idea of the time of death, Doctor?”

“I examined him at half past three. I should put the time of death asbetween half past one and half past two.”

“You cannot put it nearer than that?”

“I should prefer not to do so. At a guess, the most likely time would betwo o’clock or rather earlier, but there are many factors which have to betaken into account. Age, state of health, and so on.”

“You performed an autopsy?”

“I did.”

“The cause of death?”

“The man had been stabbed with a thin, sharp knife. Something in thenature, perhaps, of a French cooking knife with a tapering blade. Thepoint of the knife entered … ” Here the doctor became technical as he ex-plained the exact position where the knife had entered the heart.

“Would death have been instantaneous?”

“It would have occurred within a very few minutes.”

“The man would not have cried out or struggled?”

“Not under the circumstances in which he was stabbed.”

“Will you explain to us, Doctor, what you mean by that phrase?”

“I made an examination of certain organs and made certain tests. Iwould say that when he was killed he was in a state of coma due to the ad-ministration of a drug.”

“Can you tell us what this drug was, Doctor?”

“Yes. It was chloral hydrate.”

“Can you tell how this was adminstered?”

“I should say presumably in alcohol of some kind. The effect of chloralhydrate is very rapid.”

“Known in certain quarters as a Mickey Finn, I believe,” murmured thecoroner.

“That is quite correct,” said Doctor Rigg. “He would drink the liquid un-suspectingly, and a few moments later he would reel over and fall uncon-scious.”

“And he was stabbed, in your opinion, while unconscious?”

“That is my belief. It would account for there being no sign of a struggleand for his peaceful appearance.”

“How long after becoming unconscious was he killed?”

“That I cannot say with any accuracy. There again it depends on the per-sonal idiosyncrasy of the victim. He would certainly not come round un-der half an hour and it might be a good deal more than that.”

“Thank you, Doctor Rigg. Have you any evidence as to when this manlast had a meal?”

“He had not lunched if that is what you mean. He had eaten no solidfood for at least four hours.”

“Thank you, Doctor Rigg. I think that is all.”

The coroner then looked round and said:

“The inquest will be adjourned for a fortnight, until September 28th.”

The inquest concluded, people began to move out of the court. EdnaBrent who, with most of the other girls at the Cavendish Bureau, had beenpresent, hesitated as she got outside the door. The Cavendish SecretarialBureau had been closed for the morning. Maureen West, one of the othergirls, spoke to her.

“What about it, Edna? Shall we go to the Bluebird for lunch? We’ve gotheaps of time. At any rate, you have.”

“I haven’t got any more time than you have,” said Edna in an injuredvoice. “Sandy Cat told me I’d better take the first interval for lunch. Meanof her. I thought I’d get a good extra hour for shopping and things.”

“Just like Sandy Cat,” said Maureen. “Mean as hell, isn’t she? We openup again at two and we’ve all got to be there. Are you looking for anyone?”

“Only Sheila. I didn’t see her come out.”

“She went away earlier,” said Maureen, “after she’d finished giving herevidence. She went off with a young man—but I didn’t see who he was.

Are you coming?”

Edna still hovered uncertainly, and said, “You go on—I’ve got shoppingto do anyway.”

Maureen and another girl went off together. Edna lingered. Finally shenerved herself to speak to the fair-haired young policeman who stood atthe entrance.

“Could I go in again?” she murmured timidly, “and speak to—to the onewho came to the office—Inspector something.”

“Inspector Hardcastle?”

“That’s right. The one who was giving evidence this morning.”

“Well—” the young policeman looked into the court and observed the in-spector in deep consultation with the coroner and with the chief constableof the county.

“He looks busy at the moment, miss,” he said. “If you called round at thestation later, or if you’d like to give me a message … Is it anything import-ant?”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter really,” said Edna. “It’s—well—just that I don’t seehow what she said could have been true because I mean … ” She turnedaway, still frowning perplexedly.

She wandered away from the Cornmarket and along the High Street.

She was still frowning perplexedly and trying to think. Thinking hadnever been Edna’s strong point. The more she tried to get things clear inher mind, the more muddled her mind became.

Once she said aloud:

“But it couldn’t have been like that … It couldn’t have been like shesaid….”

Suddenly, with an air of one making a resolution, she turned off fromthe High Street and along Albany Road in the direction of WilbrahamCrescent.

Since the day that the Press had announced that a murder had beencommitted at 19, Wilbraham Crescent, large numbers of people hadgathered in front of the house every day to have a good look at it. The fas-cination mere bricks and mortar can have for the general public undercertain circumstances is a truly mysterious thing. For the first twenty-fourhours a policeman had been stationed there to pass people along in an au-thoritative manner. Since then interest had lessened; but had still notceased entirely. Tradesmen’s delivery vans would slacken speed a little asthey passed, women wheeling prams would come to a four or five minutestop on the opposite pavement and stare their eyes out as they contem-plated Miss Pebmarsh’s neat residence. Shopping women with basketswould pause with avid eyes and exchange pleasurable gossip with friends.

“That’s the house—that one there….”

“The body was in the sitting room … No, I think the sitting room’s theroom at the front, the one on the left….”

“The grocer’s man told me it was the one on the right.”

“Well, of course it might be, I’ve been into Number 10 once and there, Idistinctly remember the dining room was on the right, and the sittingroom was on the left….”

“It doesn’t look a bit as though there had been a murder done there,does it … ?”

“The girl, I believe, came out of the gate screaming her head off….”

“They say she’s not been right in her head since … Terrible shock, ofcourse….”

“He broke in by a back window, so they say. He was putting the silver ina bag when this girl came in and found him there….”

“The poor woman who owns the house, she’s blind, poor soul. So, ofcourse, she couldn’t know what was going on.”

“Oh, but she wasn’t there at the time….”

“Oh, I thought she was. I thought she was upstairs and heard him. Oh,dear, I must get on to the shops.”

These and similar conversations went on most of the time. Drawn asthough by a magnet, the most unlikely people arrived in Wilbraham Cres-cent, paused, stared, and then passed on, some inner need satisfied.

Here, still puzzling in her mind, Edna Brent found herself jostling asmall group of five or six people who were engaged in the favourite pas-time of looking at the murder house.

Edna, always suggestible, stared also.

So that was the house where it happened! Net curtains in the windows.

Looked ever so nice. And yet a man had been killed there. Killed with akitchen knife. An ordinary kitchen knife. Nearly everybody had got a kit-chen knife….

Mesmerized by the behaviour of the people round her, Edna, too, staredand ceased to think….

She had almost forgotten what had brought her here….

She started when a voice spoke in her ear.

She turned her head in surprised recognition.